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To Baldr
To Saga
The Green Glory of Gladsheim
A Song for Urd at Samhain Time

On the Ascension of Baldr

Share the Ascension
Of the Shining One:
Balder of Asgard;
God of Chvalry.

Pride of Princes,
Nobility of Knights;
Our blinding example
Of Noblesse Oblige.

All attend to the
Glory of Asgard
As the Son of Odin
Assumes his station.

Ye who would be leaders
Behold your Lord!
Practice the principles
Of this Prince of Asgard.

Your duty and destiny
Is to defend your people,
Follow their will,
Fight their wars.

to saga

Sage saga
    sits in sokkvabekk;
scribe of history,
    seer of fate.
hear her words,
    heed her wisdom.
doomed are they
        who are deaf to history.
many a king
        has come to naught;
many princes
        in pride, have fallen.
they repeated the faults
        of fallen chieftains;
they lost their heads
        to the harsh cycle of

The Green Glory of Gladsheim


Fresh is the season

For Asgard’s Frolic;

Fjorgynn is free

From the fetters of frost.

Sing the songs

Of Spring's becoming.

The sun has entered

The sign of the bull.

Nerthus is loosened

From Night’s dark noose.

Let’s inaugurate Nature

On Walpurgisnacht.

Grand is the return

Of the Green to Gladsheim.

Grand is the growth

Of the Greenman’s Bride.

The merriment of gods

And the mirth of men

Is heard throughout

The whole World-Tree.


Animals revel, even

The stones Rejoice;

Ragnarok has been stayed

with the return of Spring!

Hearken gods!

And Princes, heed!

Behold the Greenman

And what he heralds!

Free you are

To frolic today,

Rejoice and revel

In the Light’s return!

But do not lose

your sense of Duty;

Diligence defends

The lengthening days.

But today is the day

For divine indulgence!

The joy of the Aesir

Is the giants’ doom!


- bragi briKtoNue

A Song for Urð at Samhain Time

The Gates of the West are open now:

Be careful of your Fears.

The sensitive soul and the untamed heart

In Night’s quiet softly hears

The soft piping of the Chaos Lords

In the Music of the Spheres.

The wild wind and the splashing sea

Are the voices of the Dead,

Vainly and ungainly struggling

for our attention, not our dread.

Do honor to your ancestors;

Wipe away their lonely tears.

With Bragi’s Cup - the funeral toast -

Honor the dead in sumbel.

Forget not the Root of which you are the Fruit;

Face the past heroic yet humble.

Doomed are they who learneth not

The lessons of the years.

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